


Persephone

by cosmicpeaches, loveliestways



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: ALSO a collab fic with my best friend so this is great, F/M, Human AU, Mutual Pining, and poppy being impulsive, but with classic tropes such as branch falling hard, indulgent persephone/hades au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpeaches/pseuds/cosmicpeaches, https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveliestways/pseuds/loveliestways
Summary: "I wanted to find myself, and I did when I found you." (hades&persephone au. slow burn-ish.)





	Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all your support, you have made me so excited to post what I write again. This is a human Hades & Persephone au. My AMAZING friend Jade (@cosmicpeaches) is going to be writing this with me. You're in for a treat, she's the best. Branch is Hades, Poppy is Persephone, and Cloud Guy is Zeus/the bane of Branch's existence...it's ridiculous. But it's fun! Reviews and kudos are so appreciated! 
> 
> With love,  
> Rea .

_Archer Pastry: Judged for immoral conduct of identity theft. Denies conduct, but his soul is erratic in his obvious, futile fib. Docked to the Fields of Punishment._

 

Branch, God of the Underworld, winces. The scratch of his quill echoes in the dark throne room, illuminated by small bouts of blue fire harmlessly gracing the wall. He authorizes the punishment with his signature, and neatly adds it to the pile of scrolls from the day.

 

“The way they choose to spend their _lives,”_ He muses to himself with a shudder. Branch often muses to himself alone. It’s been a hot fifty years since he’s really _talked_ with someone in enjoyable conversation, and that person is dead and lost to him in Asphodel by now.

 

“Yeah, humans are a hoot!” A cheeky voice rings about the hall, making Branch flinch, the pile of scrolls next to his feet cluttering and unraveling. Branch shoots up like a rocket, frustrated.

 

“Who the hell-”

 

“It _waaaaa-”_

 

Branch wishes he was Archer fucking Pastry right now.

 

“ _-aaaaaaas_ : me,” Cloud Guy pops his white adorned head from behind a pillar. The King of All Gods weighs twenty-pounds soaking wet under his shimmering, billowing toga, no matter how ripped and chiseled he may appear to humans. He floats forward in that annoying, vain way, his very presence brightening Branch’s throne room. “Happy Hades day, my brooding guy.”

 

Branch scowls, cleaning up his frightened scrolls, “ _Hades_ day? You’re really keeping count of when you hurled me into this pit? The day you made me the most hated being in the universe?”

 

Cloud Guy grins toothily, shooting finger guns, “And no one else could do it better than you!”

 

“I’m so honored,” He deadpans. Cloud Guy scoots past the irritated God of the Dead and collapses into the ebony throne, summoning a bundle of grapes out of nowhere into his hands.

 

Branch stares tiredly, crossing his arms. His bushy, white leader yawns, popping the fruits into his mouth, one by one. “Long day of seducing mortals and avoiding your actual job?”

 

His annoying superior cries, “ _Yes!”_ Cloud Guy sits up with fervor, the grapes vanishing from his fingers with a puff. Branch rolls his eyes and waves the basket of scrolls away for later. Nothing is going to get done while he’s here.

 

Cloud Guy continues,  “But I found an easy way to get ‘em. All you gotta say is: ‘Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Cloud Guy, King of the Gods’, then you crack a few lightning bolts to the sky, show off those glutes, and the mortal is yours _forever!”_ Cloud Guy gasps, grabbing Branch’s arm. “Oh Branch! You should try it sometime! Humans are so _naive!_ ”

 

He wiggles out of Cloud Guy’s grasp, “No thanks. Unlike _someone else I know,_ I actually want to do my job well. My romantic interest in humans is nonexistent, as should be _yours.”_

 

“But you deserve romantic interest in _something!”_ Cloud Guy slings an arm around Branch’s neck before he can make a grand escape, “C’mon, lover boy, I know deep, deep down, you’re a hardcore romantic.”

 

“ _No way.”_ He shoves Cloud Guy off once more. The harmless flames darting across the walls glower with Branch’s aggression. “Now get out. I have things to do.”

 

The all-powerful god shrugs carelessly, floating towards the ceiling, “Fine. I have things to do, too, you know. Like, two women and two men are waiting for me up there,”

 

Branch covers his ears, shaking his head viciously, “I _do not_ need details!”

 

“Smell ya later.” Cloud Guy says, and disappears in a blinding white flash that leaves Branch blinking back stars.

 

♥ ♥ ♥

 

The library is the most secluded place in the castle. It is filled wall-to-wall with only records of human suffering, bloodshed, and chaos. Branch doesn’t have a great diversity to choose from when he wants to read something, honestly. The silence, thought, is fitting, as it’s a sort of reverence for those who have suffered so terribly in their mortal lives, but it’s still eerie. For him, that’s saying something, since eerie lives in his backyard.  The only source of life in that skeleton of a room, it’s heartbeat, is Branch’s writing desk, tucked away in the back.

 

Branch hates when Cloud Guy comes to visit. Because, then, everything Cloud Guy says puts thoughts in his head like seeds, budding and prodding until Branch can’t take it anymore, and he’s at his desk, frantically scribbling verse after verse about the only romantic interest he’s ever had in his existence. And Cloud Guy, so help him, would never find out about her.

 

_Poppy, Poppy, Poppy-_

 

He paints her on page, careful, thoughtful with every word, although his shitty attempt at poetry could never really capture everything Poppy is. She’s _life, and beauty and breath, and she’s_ absolutely everything he’s not. Branch chews on his lower lip, sinking back in his seat.

 

The Council of the Gods happens a few times in between every millennia, in Cloud Guy’s realm on Mount Olympus. It’s one of the few events Branch is required to attend. He doesn’t see the point of it. Helping humankind is completely tossed out the window at this thing. Everyone ends up setting bets, arguing, goofing off with humans - it’s a _mess_. If anything, Branch shows up for participation points, and then leaves. It was a few thousand years ago, the first time he saw her.

 

_It’s another failed God’s council, and Branch is fuming, shoving the gates open._

 

_“I could have met with five hundred thousand souls_ **_and_ ** _fed Gary well before this meeting even ended!” Branch explodes. He stomps down the shimmering staircase, bellowing laughter and screeches and absolute nonsense echoing above him. He massages his temples - gods aren’t supposed to get migraines, but well, well, well, fucking well -_

 

_“Oh!”_

 

_A flash of pink slams into him as he rounds the corner, and Branch stumbles, an eloquent string of curses escaping him. He anchors his hands around the first thing he can find, someone’s waist, and slender hands grip his shoulders. Cerulean eyes lock with chestnut brown ones, and_ **_God, the world stops spinning_ ** _._

 

_She’s gorgeous, she’s breathtaking, she’s heart-stopping, Branch should really stop using synonyms to describe her, because let’s face it, all of the words in existence could not be sufficient to describe her. Her hair, in pale pink waves, twisted in ivory petals, cascades down her back. She’s in a sage gown, adorned with tiny flowers and leaves. Freckles dust across her warm skin. A small, sheepish smile graces her lips._

 

_“Sorry my guy,” She laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders, and it reminds Branch: ‘Hey. Buddy. You should probably let her go, you creep.’ In an awkward sort-of awe, he sets her down on the step below. “I totally wasn’t watching where I was going and- and I’m so late! It’s my first time to one of these things, ya’know-”_

 

_An intoxicating aroma of strawberries and blossoms swells over him, and Branch is fucking blessed to have uttered out a shaky response past his sudden dizziness, “You mean the Council of the Gods?”_

_“Bingo! Zinga! That’s right.” The woman chirps, putting her hands on her hips._

 

_He blinks, a tad stunned, “Why haven’t you been here before?”_

 

_“Oh! My dad is the God of Harvest and Summers, Peppy,” She explains giddily, “He feels like I’m ready to go to these now, and lemme tell ya, I am stoked to officially meet everyone!” A pause. She looks Branch up and down, biting on her lower lip to keep her smile from growing any larger, if possible, geez, she’s like a fucking cartoon character, “Who are you?”_

 

_Ah, the magic has ceased. Once she knows who he is, Branch fully expects repulsion._

 

_“I’m Branch. God of The Underworld,” He hesitates. His heart twists at her expression morphing into shock, and now he_ **_needs_ ** _to leave._

 

_Branch scowls, beginning in a mad rush to brush past her, but she takes him by surprise again, and presses her hands against his chest._

 

_“Wait, wait, Branch, that’s - I’m just surprised!” The goddess races, an odd blush washing across her face. “I thought the God of the Underworld was some old, pasty dude, not-_ **_you know,_ ** _lookin’ like_ **_this!”_ **

 

_Branch blinks, glaring, “The hell is that supposed to mean?”_

 

_She’s taken aback, an anxious laugh spilling past her. “Nothing, nothing. I’m Poppy. Goddess of Spring.”_

 

_He ignores the way he leans closer at her name, the way his heart sings when he hears it, because of course she’s named that, of course, and he utters it, with a sort of reverence,  “Poppy..”_

 

_The corner of her lips twitch upwards, “Mmhm?” Her hands remain on his chest, practically making themselves comfortable, and Branch prays she doesn’t feel how rapid his heart moves to her, and_ **_no._ **

 

_Not her. Never her._

 

_He would ruin her._

 

_“I was just leaving. Get out of my way.”_

 

_Racing down the stairs, he doesn’t dare look back._


End file.
